


Five Times Steven Got Lost in Lust, One Time He Didn’t

by Evenseven



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angry Sex, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Dirty Talk, English translation, Fights, M/M, Mild Orgasm Delay, Mild d/s undertone, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Beta, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Scenes Collage, Top!steven, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: This is probably the greatest achievement in the twenty-five years of your life, you think while kissing him even harder.(In which Steven and Xabi fuck (a lot) and fight, bad words and tears involved.)





	Five Times Steven Got Lost in Lust, One Time He Didn’t

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing a **pov second person** fic and it's pretty bad I'm sorry. Warning ahead, they did get into fight and please read the tags.  
An English translation of my old fics cos i'm too lazy to write something new. But, it's for you all sweet Gerlonso shippers, if there's still anyone shipping this, <strike>welcome to talk to me and maybe I'd be motivated to write/translate some more.</strike>  
Anyway, I do apologize for my bad English and please don't hate me if you found it less than bearable...(ಥ_ಥ)
> 
> 中文原文在[Lofter](http://ltricker.lofter.com/post/27697b_12e8d1586)，欢迎找我玩（。

1.

The pale and bare skin of the back of the Spaniard well displayed before your eyes, your hands caress the hidden muscle lines, fingertips wander to a tiny mole on his small back that is almost too small to be visible. You’ve seen his beautiful well-built body figure so many times in the changing room that you can’t count, but it’s your first time to _feel_ the burning body temperature of his smooth skin in such a close distance. Xabi’s soft dark chocolate hair rest upon his nape, and you just can’t help but bend down to kiss that charming curve.

“Stevie…” He murmurs your name right by your ears, the husky voice sounds like half a decline, half an invitation.

You say nothing but to suck out a purple-ish red mark on his shoulder, then slide down along the spine line, by the time your lips pause at his small back, your firm fingers have found his buttocks as well. You push your lube-wet index finger into the dark valley between his asscheeks, resulting a low moan from the Spaniard. You stare at the slightly shaking shoulder blade of his, yet your mind wanders to somewhere far and distant.

When you finally feel his body relaxes a little, you can’t hold any longer but push your rock hard cock inside him. Xabi screams for the sudden interruption and discomfort, but you aren’t going to stop. Instead your fingers clench firmly on his hip, feeling the hot tunnel wraps around you tightly that makes your head dizzy. Your eyes fix on his quivering shoulders, the more you move the deeper you sink in the rapture.

How should you describe this sort of bliss from conquest? You are not a master of words in general, but you know it wouldn’t be the same if it was someone else. The man under you, lying on the navy blue bed sheet that well contrast with his pale ivory skin, is not just a random person, but the one they called—Liverpool’s new midfield commander. In your craziest fantasies, you dream of pressing his face down the green of Anfield, dream of having lunatic sex in front of all the teammates and fans that have ever complimented his stunning passing skill, dream of how his quivering shoulders raising and pointing to commend the game, and now they could only yield to you.

Xabi tries to turn around a little, reaching out his right hand to grab your arm as you see his round bunny nose covered with sweat and deep eyes half closed. “Stevie, slow down…” That’s what he tells you, but you are already lost your reasons, so you didn’t stop but only seize his wrist and kiss him. The Spaniard let out an almost inaudible sigh, following by moans mixed with pain and pleasure, which are all sealed with your own lips.

Your head is sizzling and everything you see is distant, yet you can still feel his stormy heartbeat, gradually lining up with your own.

This is probably the greatest achievement in the twenty-five years of your life, you think while kissing him even harder.

2.

Xabi’s arms tightly brace your shoulders as you press him on the back of the door, his long and well-built legs enwound your waist to keep himself from falling. The gravity challenges all the muscles in your arms, but also aids you thrust deeper inside him.

You are pretty sure that your fingers will leave some enchanting prints on his ass, but you really don’t give a fuck, because you seem to find the sensitive spot inside him that makes the Spaniard grunt out loud. There is nothing else to do other than holding your breath and shoving your cock hard and rapidly.

Xabi doesn’t even try to repress his moaning which you are particularly fond of, he groans louder and louder, mixing with a language you can’t quite comprehend. Apart from that, you hear him saying your name repeatedly. That’s when you know that you possess all of him, his body and his soul, that he belongs to you and only you, and that all those people who envy him, adore him, and desire him could never compare with you.

The pleasure crashes you so hard that you can’t keep your mouth shut any more, so you lick on the outline of his ear and say it out loud again and again: “I love you, Xabi, you are mind, I love you.”

You feel his body tenses up and his inside clenches on you even more, and you know that’s a sign of him about to reach climax. So you try your best to thrust deeper and harder, and he releases everything soon between your abs barely touching himself. The stun from orgasm makes him even more careful to embrace you to keep balance, and you didn’t last long before spasming inside him when those unfocused cameral eyes looking back at you with a note of wetness.

You slowly retreat yourself before carrying him to the soft mattress, he grabs some paper tissues to clean up the mess on your abs, and you are just lying there and letting the bliss of climax run through you.

You think about the words you said, but bedside talk doesn’t mean a thing other than nonsense carried out by sexual pleasure, and you both know it way too well.

3.

“Xabi, are you fucking your self properly? My love, I can’t let you loaf on this…”

You are lying on the twin bed in your hotel room, one hand grabbing your phone, the other stroking your harden dick. It’s the very first time you are not so happy going on war with your national team, though you know you would never reject such honor. Yet you know if it wasn’t this international break, the two of you wouldn’t suffer this separation.

“Let me hear you, Xabi, I want to hear your voice,” You put down the phone on the side of your pillow, put on the speaker so you can hear the Spaniard’s heavy breathing, along with some obscene wetness and rubbing sounds that prove the man other other side of phone wasn’t lying, “Can you feel me inside you? Tell me, how does it feel?”

“Sí, Stevie, you…you are fucking huge, inside me, fuck, I miss you so much, I can’t take it any longer…”

Xabi’s whisper becomes lower, followed by his unrelenting loud moans. You fasten the movement of your hands, plumping yourself at the same pace as the moaning from the phone. “Close you eyes, Xabi, it’s me who’s fucking you right now. God, you are so tight, you are always so tight no matter how many times we’ve fucked, clenching on my cock like that. Yes, faster…!” You try your best to sound clam and composed, but the imagination in your head drags you absolutely crazy.

You close your eyes, thinking how Xabi lies on the white hotel mattress, how he reaches a hand to the backside and fucks himself with those lube-soaked fingers, how his lovely face blushes from shame and pleasure, how he buries himself into the pillow but can’t help to obey your instructions.

“Oh, Stevie! Ugh, I’m about to, I’m, fuck, Stevie!—” The man on the other side finally let go of all his shyness, screaming aloud your name for the climax incoming. And you are so close to cum yourself that you turn your wrist, rubbing the tip of your shaft with your thumb.

It is the same time as you hear Xabi’s last few whimpers before orgasm, that you see through your half-close eyelids that the hotel room door shaking a second before it swung open—

“Fuck, Stevie! For the love of god!” Your roommate Carra widens his eyes before raising a hand to cover his redden face, “Can’t you just go jerk off in the loo?!”

“Fuck, Fucking hell,” You rush to hang up the phone with your left hand, but your right hand just can’t stop right at this crucial time of sexual pleasure, “Carragher, fuck, why are you coming back so soon, shit, don’t you see I’m fucking busy now? Get the fuck out—”

“Jesus Christ! I’m leaving ok, with my wallet, god damn it, you shut your mouth!” Carra rushes to the TV table to grab his wallet that he have forgotten, then ran out the door without turning back.

You curse out s few more words, trying to recover from this incident. The second you close your eyes again, the image of the clean shaven Spaniard’s face reappears in your mind, and oh those always bright and somewhat innocent coffee-shade eyes during sex looking back at you, and you just climax hard lying on the bed alone.

Until quite a while after the bliss of orgasm died out, you didn’t realize how bad your attitude was towards your mate. Whatever, you can apologize to Jamie later, as you believe your good scouser friend wouldn’t mind too much about your attitude when you’re drowning in the ecstasy of sex.

4.

You and Xabi are doing some extra training in Melwood, practicing long passes to each other across the silent field and running till you can feel your shirt dripping with sweat, and you know the other man feels the same. Finally you decide to collect those balls spread out in the field back to a bag, handing it to the attendant before walking back to changing room.

Warm water drip from the shower head above, you stand there staring at the wall in blank for a while, enjoying the calm breath after such intense exercise. You hear the shower sound from your right hand side stops, following by footsteps coming closer to you. The Spaniard stops right behind you and reaches his arms to embrace your waist, the warmth of another body feels so intimate against your back. He plants a soft kiss on your right shoulder, you turn around to seize his wrist when he retreats to grab a towel.

Xabi turn to look at you with a pair of confused eyes, so you look straight back to his beautiful caramel eyes, thinking how obvious the desire must be in your own eyes.

You lick your lips and find out that you cock is already half mast before doing anything: “Xabi…I wan you, I want your mouth…”

The Spaniard blinks without a word, you bring his hand down to your slightly aroused cock, his face flushes and his low voice muffled by the water: “Stevie, you’re out of your mind…This is Melwood!”

“This is players’ changing room, and all other players have been long gone. No one’s gonna come in,” You laugh, reaching out a hand to turn off the shower so the room is suddenly filled with silence, “Now, if anyone come close that door, we would be able to hear it.”

“…You are truly out of your mind—” You pull him close before he can finish the sentence, bit down on his lip and seal the words with a passionate kiss.

When the deep kiss ends you press his shoulder down, you see the water drop hanging on Xabi’s eye lashes, and when the drop shakes down silently, he kneels before in without a word. His slim fingers wrap around your harden erection, that parted pink lips do not wait long before swallow you in.

The Spaniard’s tongue licks along the hard shaft, swallowing in and out while using his fingers to caress the part he couldn’t swallow and teasing the balls. You are covered with hot steam after the shower, but the scene before your eyes makes you way more heated than you were under the hot water. Xabi lifts his eyes intentionally to meet yours, like he knows how much it drives you insane. You can’t help but grab his soaked hair to thrust deeper, seeing those lips redden as you fuck faster, seeing Xabi losing his control and cockiness when you turn the table, seeing how he sucks you in the pace you like while his erection becomes evident with all the moves.

He is yours, and he kneels only before you, pleases only you with his thin lips and watery eyes.

This scene is way to sexy and you can no longer hold your moaning, you call his name repeatedly as you twist your fingers around his hair tighter, losing yourself in those waves of pleasure.

The only thing you can still reason is that even if someone is coming through that door right now, you would never be able to hear it and stop this crazy sex.

5.

“Fuck you, Xabi Alonso, you really gonna leave me? Fuck you!” You press him down on the sofa with your own body, trying to kiss him yet your words apparently anger the Spaniard, so he bites down on your lips that makes you back away in pain.

“Get off my, Gerrard, you’re the one saying how much you wanted Barry. Now I’m leaving and your wish is grant, what’s the problem?”

“I’ve apologized and you said you wouldn’t mind—” You have no intention of getting off him, so you use your strong legs to hold down his thighs to make him unable to get away from your trap.

“So what? I’ve got no future here in Liverpool now, and Rafa obviously wants me to go, I’m just doing the right thing.” He isn’t asking a question but stating a solid fact, pushes your shoulder to get away when he realizes you’re not letting him go. The distance between you two widens a little, but you manage to seize both of his struggling wrists.

“You said you’re not gonna leave me…Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“And who do _you_ think I am?” He raises his voice and squints his eyes to look at you with a disparaging gaze, “I’m your fucking sex toy, am I? Like those new boys in the team right? Now they’re younger and prettier, so you can just dump me aside and flirt with whoever you want, hm? Gerrard, tell me this, are they as good as me in bed? Or do they please you more than me?”

“You—!” His words are like cold water straight to your face, you haven’t been this angry _in years_, and the mocking look in his face just makes you want to give him a harsh slap. But you didn’t, instead you reach your belt, bounding his wrists tightly before he could even react: “You shut the fuck up, you are mine and only mine…”

You spare a hand to the waistband of his trousers, anticipating some more struggle, yet out of your surprise, the man just lies on the sofa with those disparaging eyes, and the sneer he gives you hurts more than anything: “You just want a fuck doll I see, yeah, you do that, use me as you wish, dickhead! I wonder what other bullshit excuse could you make up to say you’re not just drooling for this body…”

The stone cold face he presents chokes all your pleads back down your throat, and he wouldn’t even let you have the chance to explain. -Fuck this arrogant asshole, thinking about leaving me like all the others…- A voice in your head whispers to you that makes your teeth grinding, you bend down to bite his neck, feeling his stubbles rub against your face has he tips up his head. You don’t even bother to take off his t-shirt so your lips can only wander between his neck and collarbones, leaving a trait of scary bite marks behind. You realize you can’t object his words, for all this time together you have fell deeply in love with his body. The physical affection is irresistible, yet you know there is also something else, something you never ever admit, something that truly fuels your rage when he said he’s gonna leave the club.

The sneer on the Spaniard’s face only seems to soften when you bury yourself fully inside him, but you know that’s not because of compromise but pain. Your hurry and rough moves make it difficult for both of your, you slow down a little but Xabi still wouldn’t let out a sound, staring right back to you with stubbornness.

He is clenching on you a bit too tight, so you have to pull out of him, finding a tube of lube under the coffee table to prepare him more carefully. The Spaniard bits down on his lips and keeps silent the whole time, once his body relaxes under the lube and the pain is gone, the provoking arrogance climbs right back to his face.

You push in and out of him as the movement smoothes out, the lust and physical pleasure burn your head, yet the coldness in his expression tears your heart apart. Such rage is so hard to control that you spread his legs open even wider, fingernails sink into his pale skin. His wrists are still bounded together by your belt and folded before his chest, the more vulnerable look makes you fasten the thrusting pace.

“Xabi, you are the one enjoying all this, right?” You grind your teeth and let out a sneer, his eyes focus back on yours, “Where are you going? I’ve heard that Juventus _loves_ to have you, or you’re fucking off back to Spain? I bet your Spanish teammates all want a piece of your ass, or have they fucked you already? All those international breaks, when I was not by your side…You’ve been _longing_ to go back, hm?”

“Fuck you!—” His curse words in English have always sounded softer to your ears, you wrap your fingers around his harden cock as he is thinking about how to talk back, so he never manage to finish the sentence.

“I’m warning you, you’re not going to London! Don’t ever let me fucking see you wearing those disgusting blue shirts, and letting those familiar dick-faces touch your ass—”

“_Hijo de puta_! You’re the one sleeping around like a—” Your words anger him so much but you have no idea yourself why you’re saying those nonsense, you’re just afraid that once he leaves, all the nonsense would come true.

He starts to struggle for the first time under the bound, but your belt has done its job that he doesn’t have a chance. More Spanish comes out from his mouth in anxiety, as well as moans when you rub your fingertip on the top of his cock.

“Look at you, such a _whore_ you are now, Alonso. You wanna cum? Beg.”

“Fuck off!” He curses at your face but you can see him blushing in a special way, that’s the sign of him getting close to cum, so you grip harshly with your fingers all of a sudden, the pain makes him gasp out in a breath: “Get off me!”

“That’s not the attitude for begging.” Your left hand is still holding down his twitching thigh, you feel yourself come close to the edge as well, yet you wouldn’t let him go so easily, so you squeeze your fingers again.

“Fuck, fuck, let me go, let me…!” He tries to free his hand and failed again, curving up his back in discomfort. You bite down mercilessly on the bare skin of his neck, spasm inside him with heavy breathes, while he could do nothing to be free from the edge.

“Stevie,” He suddenly calls out your name, quivering voice with a crying note, “You’re hurting me, Stevie, I want to…”

That’s not the begging you were wishing to hear, but you can’t reject his crying whimper, you can’t stand to see him actually cry. So you loose up your fingers and the Spaniard cums almost instantly in your hand.

You finally decide to free his hands when he lies on the sofa trying to calm his breath, none of you say a word after this. You stare at the purple mark around his wrists, feeling the guilt inside you starts to creep out, but the other man doesn’t really seem to care like he can’t feel any pain.

And suddenly you remember you were going to ask for an explanation and comfort from him, though you did right the opposite at the end. When the long-lost rationality comes back to you after everything, you finally start to think about a sincere talk with Xabi.

+1.

You hold him down on this king-size bed that have been loaded with all the memories of those sweetest and craziest nights, thrusting deeper into him, yet you can’t help but notice almost all the personal belongings in this bedroom have been packed and cleaned, this apartment is about to be rented out.

Entangled bodies and familiar mixing scents, are those really enough to make up for this empty room and broken hearts?

“Stevie, harder, ughh, right there…!” The Xabi tonight is too generous with his moaning, his arms enwind around your neck, pulling you as close as you can feel your heartbeats fall in the same line. And you don’t need him to remind you how to move your hip, for the intimation over the past five years teaches you well enough how to read every delicate reaction of his body. Xabi’s legs grip around your waist, moving his hip to meet every deep shove of yours.

He offers everything to you, all of his body and all of this fragility; he lets you take all the control over him and never compliant, even when you got into fights from time to time; and the most important thing, he never leaves your side.

That is, until now.

Your hands grip onto his narrow waist, controlling the rhythm as best as you can and hitting the sensitive spot inside him, receiving some seductive moans from the Spaniard as the result. His heated tunnel clenches on you for the sensual pleasure, and you feel the same joy mingled with the devastation inside your chest by just looking at him.

It is never only some kind of sexual desire, you are finally brave enough to admit it after five years. It is_ love_, and you are in deep love with him, as deep as he is with you. You can feel it in every breath he takes, but none of you ever say it out loud.

Xabi leans closer to capture your lips, it is probably by far the longest, the most vigorous, yet the most gentle kiss you ever have. You close your eyes and feel his beard scratching your chin, it is a kind of sensation that you have got used to. Until another strange sense meet your cheeks, wet and heated drops slide to your lips, and you taste the unfamiliar salt.

You startle to open your eyes, and under the dim yellow light of the nightstand lamp, you see those pretty caramel eyes soaked in tears, the same eyes that are warmer and more tender than all the sunlight in May, the same eyes that you are just nuts about. Xabi blinks a few time trying to stop the teardrops from falling, yet only does the opposite.

“Xabi…Did I hurt you?” You suddenly pause your movement, but he just shakes his head and embrace you closer, encouraging you to continue this beckoning yet heartbroken sex.

This time the lust doesn’t cover your eyes, but only let you see things even more lucid. You want to ask why he’s crying but you wouldn’t dare, for you somehow got a hunch of the answer already, and you know this answer would make you weep as well.

Your hand finds his, and brings it to his erection between your bodies, moving up and down like you are crossing your fingers. The Spaniard rests his head on your shoulder, a few more clear drops land on there without a word. As the climax approaches, he finally stops weeping, and youjust plant small kisses on his ear and the hairline, thrusting deep inside him again and again, till you reach the orgasm at almost the same time.

His voice is hoarse and low because of the lust, but still tender like a whisper when it reaches your ears: “Stevie…This is about the last time.”

And that is all he has left to say, and other than a long sigh, you too don’t have any more comfort words for him or yourself. You breath in the dear scent of this man that you would always miss, though you know there aren’t many chances like this left.

The love story has eventually come to an end, and this is the end you all could no longer control.

End.


End file.
